


The Edge of a Cliff

by Hammocker



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brother Feels, Brotherly Love, Crying, Fix-It, I need to get that incest proper eventually, M/M, Optimistic Ending, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, talking things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 07:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: It wouldn’t have been so bad if Merle died there, fighting a bigger asshole than himself. So what the hell was he doing keeping his foot on the brakes?





	The Edge of a Cliff

**Author's Note:**

> The Dixon brothers are a goddamn tragedy with how things go in the show. Merle had the chance to finally really be with his brother and he needlessly wastes it for no good reason. Maybe it's because I love the brothers so much, but they make me sadder than any of the other characters on the show. Naturally, I had to fix things.

Merle’s head was in a booze-induced buzz, complemented by the booming music, muffled groans all around him, and the occasional bang on the car’s shell. He couldn’t focus and he could barely even remember his plan anymore. So why the hell could he still hear his loud-as-fuck thoughts?

Since he and Michonne had set out, he couldn’t stop thinking. Didn’t help that she’d kept poking at him, digging her claws in. He couldn’t remember his mind going as fast as this. Not when he’d dealt with walkers. Not when he’d gotten out of Woodbury with his brother. Never. And he couldn’t stop it. He was doing his absolute damnedest to stop, but even as he doubled down, he was buckling. Something was wrong with him.

Merle kept mentally retracing his steps, trying to find exactly where the crack in his armor had first formed. Only a couple singular moments stood out. His little Bible talk with the old man. Rick asking why he did the things he did. But neither of those things were the start. Why had he let Michonne go, really? Sure, Merle could say that he’d known all along that it was naive to think the governor wouldn’t slaughter them all anyway, but he knew it wasn’t that. It all come back to something else, something deeper. Something that had him thinking about things beyond himself.

 _You play the cards you got, and I’ve only got one_ , he’d said to Michonne. Sure, he’d said it, but, truth was, he didn’t think he’d ever heard a bigger load of bullshit in his life. She was right; they could have turned around. He could have turned around and gone right back with her. Trouble was, Merle didn’t want to. Sure, he wouldn’t mind the time with his brother, but dealing with those people? Fitting in among them? They weren’t gonna take to him, not after all the shit he’d pulled. And why should they? He’d been the brute, the bully, the killer, and he’d been good at it. So damn good. There wasn’t any point to trying to change that; it was his lot in life and that was that. Besides, he’d come out to do a job, and by God, he was gonna do that job. Not to mention that he might just take out that asshole who’d hurt him.

With that in mind, it wouldn’t have been so bad if Merle died there, fighting a bigger asshole than himself. So what the hell was he doing keeping his foot on the brakes?

Merle took another swig of liquor, spinning his wheels on the question. Daryl didn’t need him. He wanted Merle around, had said as much, but maybe he would have been better without. But if something went wrong here, that left Daryl as the last of their family. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Yet still Merle hesitated, going back and forth in his head despite himself. He wasn’t blessed with time, he knew, but something held him back. Some unseen force, be it God, or his own conscience, or some piece of Daryl that he carried.

Merle’s thoughts were finally, finally interrupted by the sound of flesh being split and bodies hitting the ground. He looked up and glanced around, and it only took a moment for him to spot someone taking out walkers around the car. Seemed he’d spotted Merle long before Merle had spotted him. Merle snorted and rolled his eyes. It’d take awhile to attract more walkers, but at least it was only a nuisance. Besides, Merle wasn’t opposed to some company. Maybe it’d distract him from his troubles long enough for him to do what he came to do. Or, part of it anyway. Shit, what was he doing anyhow?

With that in mind, Merle kept his eyes down and sipped his booze, listening to what was going on outside. The noise seemed to be concentrated on the right side of the car. Someone wanted to get in. Fine by Merle. He put the car into park and relaxed.

It didn’t take too long before a lot of the groaning stopped, leaving only his blasting music. In a moment, the passenger door clicked open, whoever it was slid inside, and slammed the door shut. With the flash of a finger on the system’s power button they were both plunged into a silence that lasted only a second.

“What the hell are you doin’?!”

Daryl. His voice was as sobering as ever.

Merle’s head was up in a flash and found himself faced with the very brother who’d been on his mind.

“What are you doin’?” Merle retorted. “Don’t remember askin’ anyone to come after me.”

Daryl socked him hard in the shoulder at that. Merle winced before a smile came over him. Kid had a hell of an arm. Hard to believe that he’d ever been a scrawny little thing.

“And nobody asked you to come out here on your own! If you’d just waited a damn hour we’d have told you that it was a bad idea all along!”

Merle had to laugh. So he’d been right. No one else would’ve had the balls to follow through and hand over Michonne. Then, he supposed he hadn’t in the end either, but he had other things on his mind.

“So he pussied out in the end, is that right?” he asked, giving Daryl a half-lidded stare.

“It was a bullshit deal that wasn’t gonna get kept and you know it.”

“Maybe it was, ‘least I had the guts to go and do what I said I was gonna do!” Merle was suddenly seething with anger, blood running to his face, but he couldn’t place why. “Your chickenshit Rick couldn’t do nothin’ without runnin’ off, tail between his legs!”

Daryl’s lip twisted. “So you won’t even try to work with me then? Or anyone?”

“Y’think they’ll work with me?” Merle spat. “They don’t want to. Ain’t like’em, got a twisted perspective. I’m the black sheep, simple as that.”

“No, it ain’t that simple!” Daryl bit back, standing his ground. “You’re makin’ complicated shit simple and simple shit complicated! And you’re being stubborn about it, sittin’ here trying to drink any sense y’got outta that thick skull! You’re scared’a the littlest change so you’re not gonna even try.”

Merle wrinkled his nose at that. His brother was talking shit, getting under his skin just like the damn wild woman. He expected it from her, but with Daryl it was really starting to piss him off.

“I ain’t scared,” he hissed, unable to look Daryl in the eye.

“Like hell you ain’t.” Daryl leaned forward, getting in Merle’s face. “You’re so goddamn scared that y’ran away. Talk about how Rick can’t make a decision, but look at you. Y’steal away with Michonne, let’er go, and now what the hell d’ya think yer gonna do?”

“Kill some assholes.”

“Takin’ the easy way out, that it?” Daryl asked, his anger melting into disgust.

“Easy?!” Merle barked. “Ain’t nothin’ I’ve done since all this shit went down’s been easy!”

“Bullshit.” Daryl held eye contact like it was nothing. “Stayin’ in that place, bullying your way through, that’s the easiest goddamn thing in the world for you.”

Merle gritted his teeth and had half a mind to slap his brother. He didn’t, though, he just stayed where he was, frozen.

“It’s what you know, it’s what you think you’re good at. It’s what dad put in you.”

Daryl about gagged on the mention of their father. Merle had to clench his fist at so much as the suggestion that that _thing_ they’d called dad still had any kind of hold on him. Problem was, once it was said, he couldn’t deny it. 

“Changing that, now that’s hard, isn’t it?”

“I ain’t dad,” Merle mumbled under his breath.

“So stop actin’ like him, stop makin’ a damn fool’a yourself. Give yourself a chance, for God’s sake. Give it some time and effort and they’ll accept you.”

Merle wanted to. God, he wanted to, and admitting that alone opened up a whole different can of worms. As much as he wanted to stop being on the outside, Merle didn’t know if he ever could, if the brute he’d cast himself as would ever go away. A way out was so close and he wanted it so bad and didn’t know if he could get to it. That hurt more than anything else. He tipped his head down, away from Daryl.

“Well, if y’won’t do it for you, at least do it for me.” 

Merle looked back over to Daryl and found him with a chillingly familiar expression on his face. Brow scrunched, lips tight, eyes watery, and doing his best to put on a brave face. If Merle didn’t know better he’d have said that it was the exact same expression he’d made on the day Merle had left home. God, Daryl was so young.

“Please, Merle,” he pleaded, reaching over to put his hand on Merle’s bicep. “I don’t want to lose my big brother again.”

Daryl was letting his guard down, something Merle hadn’t seen in a long, long time. Between being separated and all the change that had happened in their lives, sometimes it seemed like their bond wasn’t what it used to be. Yet here Daryl was, showing his belly and begging. Merle was worth that to him. How could that be, being what he was? Merle couldn’t see anything about himself worthwhile, but Daryl didn’t seem to care. If he was feeling poetic, he’d have said that it twisted the dagger of hurt.

Merle shifted Daryl’s hand away only to take it in his own. He kept a firm grip, looking Daryl in the eye all the while.

“Y’think I’m any good for you?” Merle asked, his tone gone cool and placid.

Daryl winced like the question itself hurt, a splash of guilt underneath that.

“Wouldn’t ask that if you weren’t.”

“Sure?” Merle asked. “Didn’t seem like you were so sure, talkin’ to Carol.”

Daryl frowned and swallowed thickly, hesitating to answer.

“I ain’t a good guy, Daryl, not like you,” Merle said, “I don’t know if I can change that, if I can do anything but that Walk into a room and everyone sees it, everyone’s tense, they know, they think I might hurt them. And maybe they’re right.”

“So prove’em wrong,” Daryl hissed.

Merle gave Daryl an incredulous glance. Where the kid had found so much investment in him, Merle couldn’t say for sure.

“I can’t,” he said, letting his eyes close.

“Can’t, or you won’t?”

“Can’t and won’t,” Merle said, a stern growl in his voice again. “It ain’t gonna be no different. The Governor, Rick, some sergeant general, it’s all the same. All ends with me playin’ assassin.”

“I don’t believe that,” Daryl came back at him, just as strong. “I don’t know what happened with you at Woodbury, but whatever he put in your head, it’s wrong.”

“And you’d know?”

“Yeah, I would. I known you longer’n anyone, and you weren’t like this before. You took a step backward.”

At the very least, Daryl was right that changed somewhere down the road, somehow. To anyone else, he’d have said that he grew up, but with Daryl, well, maybe it wasn’t quite that.

They sat there for a long moment of silence, Merle keenly aware that noon was long past. He didn’t fuss over it, though, couldn’t bring himself to make the effort.

“Was always scared I wouldn’t see you again,” Daryl muttered. “Maybe ‘cause you died, maybe ‘cause I would.”

Merle gave a dismissive chuff.

“Y’weren’t gonna die. You’re rough, y’got a good head on your shoulders.”

“Don’t matter if you’re in a cage.”

“Got trapped, huh, little brother?”

“Yeah.” Daryl wrung his hands as he spoke. “We, uh, we went down to the CDC before the prison. Guy there, he fed us, sheltered us. Then he tried to kill us.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Merle drawled, letting the blade on his prosthetic slide across the car door.

“Power started to run out. The place, it was gonna set the air on fire, burn everything inside, everyone.”

Daryl seemed to curl in on himself as he spoke, tensing up. Merle could only grit his teeth.

“The whole place, it just exploded in fire. Didn’t leave a damn thing behind. Woulda been gone without a hint we’d ever been there.“ 

Merle’s remaining hand curled into a fist. He’d never say it out loud, but the idea alone, it tested him. The thought of his brother just getting snuffed out like that for nothing, that pissed him right off. More than that, though, it scared him. And maybe Daryl felt just the same about him.

“‘Lotta spooky stuff in that place. He showed us brains, alive and dead and- walking.” The more Daryl talked, the more it sounded like he was read to puke up his guts. “Don’t like to think about death, but hard to help now. One minute everything’s there and the next-”

Daryl glanced outside towards the remaining walkers, a forlorn frown on his face.

“Life’s not something y’wanna waste, you know? One way or another.”

Merle’s jaw was clamped in place. He wanted to bark at Daryl, tell him to get out, but how could he? Merle could have lost his brother and now Daryl was staring at a situation that could lose him his. Merle was being selfish, plain and simple. He’d been selfish.

“Look. I can’t make you do nothing. End’a the day, what you do, that’s your choice. But I think it’d be a damn shame to throw yourself away ‘cause you couldn’t give yourself a chance.”

A chance. Merle had had precious few of those over the years. He’d come to expect not having any at all, for better or worse. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, the change of pace.

Daryl sat up and reached for the door. “Guess I’ll just leave you to it.”

Before he could open it, Merle grabbed Daryl’s arm.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, so quiet that he doubted if Daryl could hear it. He doubted that he’d even said it himself. It was one of those things that he just didn’t say.

“What?” Daryl breathed, almost just as quiet, glancing back at him.

“I said, maybe you’re right,” Merle repeated, louder and a little more sure of himself. “Maybe I’ve been- unfair to y’all.”

“Y’been unfair to yourself.” Daryl sat back down next to him. “It’s never been about us. What happens to you, that all comes down to you. If you’re willing to be part of us.”

“Yeah,” Merle said, nodding along with him. “Think I knew that already.”

“Could really use your help back at home.”

Home. There was a word he’d grown cynical on, even before everything went to shit. Merle didn’t belong anywhere, not really. He was a glorified attack dog, no matter where he found himself. He didn’t believe in home. The way Daryl said it, though, it made him want to believe. Want to belong.

“Well. Suppose I can’t let all’a y’all get yourselves killed,” he finally said, straightening his back. “I’ll come.”

Before he could get any further, Daryl had leaned over and put his arms around Merle. Now that was something that hadn’t happened in a long, long while. What could Merle do but follow suit? Slowly, he turned towards Daryl and returned the gesture, minding his prosthetic. Daryl pressed his face up against Merle’s collar, his breathing unsteady. Merle thought that the moisture he felt on Daryl was just sweat, but a pained sob made him think better of that.

Merle had been wrong earlier. That hadn’t been Daryl letting his guard down; this was. Daryl had been damn near stoic up until just then. Now, all bets were off, and unfiltered emotion was bleeding out of him like an infection.

“Don’t do that, Daryl,” Merle said, even as his voice started to break. “Take my own hand off, tha’s one thing, but I can’t…”

Merle had to stop and grit his teeth, holding back his own tears. It was one thing if Daryl cried; Daryl was allowed a cry every few years. But Merle was his tough-as-nails big brother and couldn’t afford to break down like that ever.

Then Daryl murmured “I love you,” against his neck, and Merle could no longer hold his tears.

Merle wasn’t sure if Daryl felt his straining inhale, or felt the tears on his skin, but he pulled away and stared up at Merle’s face in wide-eyed surprise.

“Shit, Daryl,” he said, looking away as his voice shook. He almost recoiled again, but he couldn’t do that, not now. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, y’know that? Prob’ly be dead a hundred times over.”

Even with his tear-stained eyes, Daryl smiled at that. Goddamn, when was the last time Merle had seen that smile?

“I love you too, you damn ankle-biter. Can’t think of anythin’ I wouldn’t do for you.”

Daryl put his hand over Merle’s once again. “Think I know just what I’m looking at.”

Merle had to look at him then, just had to look and see that confusing mix of sorrow overwhelming happiness.

“Best big brother I coulda asked for,” Daryl finished.

Merle didn’t know what happened in his head in that moment, but he couldn’t not something about it. It was his turn to hug Daryl.

Daryl tensed up for a split second, like the gesture shocked him, but he melted right into it.

“Where’d you go, huh?” Daryl asked, a laugh in his voice.

Merle figured Daryl didn’t want an answer, so he didn’t give one. It didn’t matter anyway now, though, did it?

It didn’t last as long as the first hug, but they both needed it just as much.

“Y’ready to get home?” Daryl asked as they separated.

“Mhm,” Merle hummed, turning forward in his seat. “As I’ll ever be.”

Daryl grabbed his wrist before he could take the wheel.

“No way, bro, you’re buzzed. I’m drivin’.”

Merle rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t about to argue with his brother now. Reluctantly, he stood up and shoved the door open, sending a couple walkers stumbling as he went. He made his way to the other side, stabbing a couple of the things to get by, and getting in the passenger’s side.

Neither of them said anything as Daryl started the car and turned to exit the lot. Merle was keenly aware of the lost time, of the fact that the Governor was probably looking to carry out some revenge plot. But somehow, he wasn’t too worried. He and his brother were back together and they were strongest as a team. They weren’t the smartest family around, but Hell always managed to rain down on anyone who messed with a Dixon.

Merle reached over and flicked the sound system back on, his music blaring through the car once more. Daryl narrowed his eyes at Merle, but didn’t do anything beyond turn the sound down.

“Y’ain’t any fun,” Merle bellyached at him, even as he smiled.

“I ain’t leading walkers to where we sleep at night,” Daryl said.

Even as he spoke, Merle caught him bobbing his head along with the song. It was a small thing, but it was enough to remind Merle that, yeah, they really were cut from the same cloth.

Merle hadn’t been wrong in what he’d told Michonne. He still had only one card to play, but it wasn’t playing bad cop; it was the overwhelming love he held for his brother. Merle didn’t always know why he did things, but when he did, there was only one answer. He’d always known that, on one level or another, and he’d tried to deny it to himself. Daryl was the crack in his armor, the one common denominator, the only place he faltered in his persona.

And maybe that wasn’t a fault at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I spent way too much time bugging people to help me edit this. I hope it turned out well for all the work that got put in.


End file.
